Faithful Servant
by Lowlands Girl
Summary: [Pre HBP] How does Snape bargain his way back into the Dark Lord's Inner Circle?


**Faithful Servant**  
_by_ The Eighth Weasley

Severus Snape hurried across the grounds as quickly as he could. As he strode across the sloping lawns, his mind whirled - what could he say that would be believed? How could he explain?

He'd joined the Hogwarts staff shortly after the Dark Lord's downfall, so it wasn't a given that He knew Severus was a staff member. Perhaps he could use that as a bargaining chip for his life—unless one of the others had told him... Either way, surely the Dark Lord would appreciate having an inside view of Albus Dumbledore's fortress? A view of Harry Potter?

He resisted the impulse to hex the bushes as he passed them. Potter. He spat on the ground, just thinking the name. Arrogant little Potter boy. If he hadn't managed to get his name into that Goblet, none of this would have happened. Never mind the fact that it was Barty Crouch, Jr. who had done it. Potter's air of heroism made him an easy target for such tactics—he'd never want to back out of an excellent opportunity to show off. Severus scowled heavily, trying to ignore the fact that Potter couldn't have withdrawn from the Tournament once his name was chosen.

He cut off the mental rant as he approached the gates, the outer limit of the anti-Apparition wards. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed himself passing the other man.

"Professor?" said a voice. Severus turned to get a good look at him.

"Mr. Weasley."

"I just wanted to wish you—" he began awkwardly, but Severus cut him off.

"Don't talk to me," he said curtly. "I have a job to do, just as you do, and a delay on my part might result in a loss of life—particularly, mine."

Bill nodded, and surprised Severus by not saying anything. _Well, one of them's got a little self-control,_ he conceded, snorting. Without another word, Severus Disapparated.

He found himself in the middle of a graveyard. The tombstones around him stared at him forbiddingly, and he shook himself slightly to regain control. _Focus,_ he reminded himself. _Clear your mind,_ echoed Dumbledore's voice in his head. _Your feelings, while admirable, Severus, will not do you any good,_ continued the voice. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and felt the familiar mask of iron-grey nothingness slide over his mind.

"Decided to join us, did you?" said a voice nearby.

"A little late, Severus," said another voice. Severus heard rustling in the grass and saw several figures wearing robes and masks begin to surround him.

"Master! He's here!" called a third voice. Severus forced the well of trepidation down. Down, down, into the dark of calm, leaving just enough trickling out.

"So, you have returned," said the Dark Lord, stepping forward through the circle of Death Eaters. "You finally saw fit to rejoin your master?"

Lord Voldemort was indeed returned, in full body. His eyes were red slits, his hands pale and slender. He looked part snake, part insect, and very little human. "My Lord, I—"

"Silence! I have not given you permission to speak, Severus!"

Recognizing the danger in the voice, Severus fell to the ground, prostrating himself in front of the Dark Lord's new body.

"My faithful servants have already arrived, Severus! And here you come, past my call, and wish to make excuses?" He laughed, and the hairs on the back of Severus's neck stood up. "I do not tolerate tardiness. _Crucio!_"

The pain hit with horrible familiarity. Severus fell to the ground, not bothering to muffle the shrieks that escaped his lips, or to try and prevent the twitching that always accompanied the Cruciatus Curse. The more the Dark Lord thought he was hurting, the better.

He could hear Death Eaters laughing around him, no doubt calling him cowardly and foolish.

"Did that hurt, Severus?" whispered the Dark Lord quietly, but loud enough for all to hear. "Did it?"

"Yes, master," Severus replied, his face in the dirt. He resisted the temptation to stand up and fight.

"Do you want me to do it again?"

"No, master."

"What was that? I'm not sure you mean it, Severus."

So, the Dark Lord wanted him to beg, did he? Well, he wouldn't! _Yes, you will!_ said a voice remarkably like Dumbledore's. _Beg for your life, or else he won't believe your story!_ "Master, I beg of you, don't!" he pleaded, inwardly cursing himself. He sounded pathetic. _But that's a good thing, remember?_

"That's better," said the Dark Lord, his voice ringing with deep satisfaction. "Now, tell me what pitiful excuse you might have." Although not seated, he gave a remarkable impression of settling himself back on a throne.

"My Lord," gasped Severus, still kneeling on the ground, "I have found a job at Hogwarts. I now work as—"

"Yes, yes, Wormtail has told me, go on," said the Dark Lord impatiently.

_Wormtail?_ Severus's mind whirled. Did that mean that... last year... was it all true? Bloody hell. _That can wait, you fool! Focus, stay calm. He will know!_ "Yes, my Lord. During the tournament, I was in the stands next to Dumbledore, and when the Potter boy disappeared, and you called us, I could not leave without attracting attention. I am a suspicious figure for many, my Lord—"

"Liar," whispered the Dark Lord, and Severus almost jumped. "You did not wish to leave Dumbledore's side, did you?" Severus let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "You fear that Muggle-loving fool. You were afraid of what he might do to you. You fear him more than you fear me."

"No, my Lord!" gasped Severus. "You are my only master, my Lord!" Some of the Death Eaters laughed mirthlessly.

"Indeed, I am. You will remember this, Severus, will you not?"

"Yes, my Lord," he replied as humbly as he could. _You are not angry, you are not angry..._ he repeated to himself.

"Good. Go on," commanded the Dark Lord.

"Yes, Master. I could not leave in front of Dumbledore, as he thinks I am loyal to him." He tried to inject as much disdain as possible into his voice. "I did not wish to arouse suspicion, my Lord, since many who were there, including Cornelius Fudge, are certain I was a Death Eater." He froze, realizing his slip.

"_Was,_ Severus?" The tone was icy, and, not for the first time, Severus honestly wished he'd simply let himself be killed, rather than going to Dumbledore for protection. "Does that mean you are no longer one of my followers?"

"No, Master!" he protested. "I do not mean anything like that! It was a mistake!"

The Dark Lord laughed again, and waved his wand threateningly. "It is not good to make mistakes, Severus, especially not if it affects the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Master!" he gasped. "Of course-"

"So, you couldn't come up with a decent excuse to get out from Dumbledore's crooked nose, and you are afraid that Fudge will be even more suspicious of you, Severus? Tut, tut. I though better of you." He raised his wand again. "Your previous activities have aroused certain of my suspicions, though. How did Lily Potter know to protect her son from me? I don't suppose she had _advance warning_?"

Severus's blood went cold. _He knows..._ echoed warningly in his head.

"Your affections for Lily Evans were well known," the Dark Lord continued. He circled Severus, his wand still aimed at him. "I know that you were highly protective of her, even though she made the foolish mistake of marrying Potter. I know, Severus, I always know." The wand twitched.

Severus made his decision in an instant. He threw himself to the ground. "Please, Master, let me be useful to you! I will do anything! Anything!"

"Fool!" spat the Dark Lord. _"Crucio!"_

The pain went on and on. Severus lost track of time in his agony, and knew that if he so much as _thought_ of blocking the pain, he would certainly be dead. He was moderately comforted by the fact that, if the Dark Lord had indeed wanted to simply kill him, he would have done so upon first sight. There had to be something he wanted from Severus. Something only Severus could do, something only Severus knew about...

Every nerve screamed for the pain to stop, but it didn't. It was almost unbearable, and Severus knew that the Dark Lord would push him almost to the point of no recovery.

Time stretched. Thoughts flitted past in a wild maelstrom of agonizing incoherency. There was nothing but the pain and the pain and the pain and the pain and the...

When it stopped, it was such an odd sensation that he didn't quite know how to deal with it. He lay panting on the ground, the rich smell of earth permeating his nostrils. The smell of life... the smell of blood.

Severus put a shaking hand up to his face—he had a bloody nose, or he bit his lip, or perhaps both, because his mouth was covered with blood. Why did he have a bloody nose?

"Have you learned your lesson?"

The Dark Lord. His situation, and the need to survive, slammed onto him like a ton of bricks.

"Yes, master," Severus replied, breathing heavily. "I will do...anything for you, my Lord. Anything." He looked up into the Dark Lord's red eyes.

"Anything, Severus? What can you do that can even approach repayment for your thirteen years' disloyalty? Why should I not simply dispose of you as a _useless turncoat?_"

The circle was silent. The Death Eaters watched, waiting to see if their bloodlust would be fed tonight.

Severus swallowed. Dumbledore wasn't going to like this, but he had no other choice.

"I can get you the Prophecy, my Lord."

_fin_


End file.
